Asylum
by LeasaSTX
Summary: Misty knows that what shes about to do is a bad idea. But she knows she has to do it.


**A really insane idea I had because I don't like all the holes that Pokémon leaves. It's really dark and angsty so you've been warned.**

 **Disclaimer: Pokémon belongs to Nintendo**

Misty felt weird. More like nauseous. This was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea.

"Ready?" Tracey asked as he put the car in park. Misty glanced out the window and up at the hospital, unknowingly clutching Azurill tighter to her chest.

"Yeah," she managed to sigh out.

Tracey looked at her. Neither made a move to exit the vehicle and the silence that had filled the car since Pallet Town only grew in weight. "We don't have to do this Misty." He told her. "You don't have to do this."

"Yes I do." Misty said with a matter-of-fact tone but it lacked any emotion. "If my sisters aren't going to come then it's gotta be me."

Tracey sighed. "Just because your sisters won't come doesn't mean you have to force yourself."

Misty let out a humorless laugh, making both Tracey and Azurill look at her with worry. "Unfortunately I do have to. I always have to."

She opened her door and got out, almost slamming it shut but not quite. Tracey let go an inaudible sigh before following her.

The Cinnabar Island Mental Institution was a pretty building with a new paint job and well kept flowerbeds lining the walkway. It was clean and orderly, looking like a normal building on the top of a hill at the end of the street.

The wrought iron fence surrounding the property really contrasted that normalness.

The pair made their way up the stairs and into the also normal looking waiting room. The receptionist was too happy for Misty's taste.

"How can I help you two?" She said way too cheerfully.

Misty opened her mouth but couldn't get the words out. Tracey took over. "Uh, yes. We're here to see Maile Waterflower."

The receptionist consulted her computer and smiled again. "Room 102. Can you please sign in."

They both signed their names and went down the hall, passing various rooms, doctors and patients. Misty avoided eye contact with all of the them, watching the floor. Tracey had a hand on her arm, keeping her going. They stopped in front of 102 and Misty refused to look in the window.

Tracey squeezed her shoulder but Misty barely felt it. "You okay Misty?"

"No," her voice was monotonous. "But, I'm not gonna turn back." With some kind of renewed determination, she reached a shaking hand out, gripped the handle and opened the door.

The room was painted a light blue and the curtains were pulled back, afternoon sunlight bathed the room. The bed was perfectly made and the room was too perfectly clean. The woman with indigo hair tied into a perfect bun looked up from the journal she was writing in. Her viridian eyes widened as she took them in.

"Hi mom," Misty looked anywhere but at her. Tracey's lips were in a line looking between the two of them.

Maile closed her journal and stood, a wide smile on her face. "Oh dear hello!" She strolled over to them, patients skirt swirling around her legs. She stopped just short of them, huge smile revealing rows of pearly white teeth.

Before Misty could stop him, Tracey held out a hand for her to shake. "Hello Ms. Waterflower, my names Tracey Sketchit. I'm dating your daughter."

Maile just stared at his hand, smile faltering. Misty reached out a hand and lowered his. "She doesn't shake hands."

"Oh," Tracey looked apologetic but once his hand was completely down, Maile smiled again.

"It's nice to meet you young man," she turned to Misty and looked at Azurill. Eyes narrowing slightly. "Please keep that one in your arms dear." Misty only nodded.

Maile turned back around and went to her desk. "What brings the two of you here?"

"Dad died." Misty spat out very quietly. "There was an accident on the boat he was on. He didn't make it."

Maile pauses in her actions, taking in the words. It only lasted for a moment.

She opened her notebook back up and picked up her pen. "Well... that's unfortunate. Yuri always did like the water. Sounds kind of ironic, doesn't it Daisy?"

"My name is Misty," Misty finally looked at her mother, gaze full of hatred. Maile glanced up and their identical eyes met, but she didn't look the least bit remorseful. "But you wouldn't care about either of us because we weren't perfect. Hate to break it to you mom but I'm not like Daisy, Violet or Lily. I'm not perfect or sensational like them but at least I had the decency to show up and let you know dad died." Her voice cracked. "Looks like that was a wasted effort."

She turned heel and left, Tracey quickly following behind. And it wasn't until they were safely in the car that Misty let out a shaky wheeze and the first wave of tears fell. Tracey pulled her to him as best he could and she cried on his shoulder; Azurill made comforting noises trying to calm her trainer down. After a while Misty pulled back and wiped her face with the back of her hand.

"It was understandable at first," she sniffled. "Most parents sometimes call their children by their other kids names. Simple mistakes. But then it started happening every day. She'd call me Daisy or Violet or Lily. It went on like that for a year. One morning I went downstairs and heard my parents fighting. Mom called me Lily and when dad corrected her, she asked, 'who?'" More tears fell. "Because I didn't want to be a performer like her she forgot who I was."

She was silent as she hiccuped and Tracey pulled her head to his shoulder again, letting her lean against him. "A few months later, the doctors said that her OCD was way too serious, her perfectionism made her unstable. Dad didn't even think twice about admitting her here. He told me he cut ties with her when she forgot my name." Then surprisingly enough, she gave a laugh, devoid of any humor. "Looks like he wasn't perfect enough for her either."

Tracey ran a hand through her hair, soothing her. It was weird to him, to see her like this. Misty had always been headstrong, tough and stubborn. Never vulnerable, never weak.

"Mist," he started, unsure. "I'm not gonna try to understand this whole situation, but your mother, isn't really your mother anymore. But that doesn't mean she never was to begin with."

Misty was silent, taking in his words. "Do you think she ever loved me?"

Tracey's hand stilled. "I don't know."

He felt her nod. "Can we go now?"

The last look Misty gave the mental asylum was a brief glance in the side mirror. She wouldn't see it again for a very, very long time.


End file.
